


Dinner Date

by BendyDick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adult!Jim, First Person, M/M, Public Sex, Underage - Freeform, Vibrators, child!Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BendyDick/pseuds/BendyDick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adult!Jim takes child!Sebastian on a dinner date in New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Date

The restaurant I work at in New York has always attracted weird characters. The circular booths allow for more privacy and that draws in the freaks. Add that to five star dinning and my job becomes a first class human waste show case.

We get the creepy old man with the paid date almost every night, then the possible mafia boss with too many rings as well as the ever popular ‘I have daddy’s card’- trust fund baby. As odd as my regulars can be none of them have ever made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end the way the pair in front of me did.

The father was a short man dressed impeccably in a suit twice my annual pay. His fingers flew gracefully across the top of the line cell phone and his eyes seemed to absorb all light leaving behind nothing but dark holes on either side of his head. He introduced himself as Jim; didn’t give a last name and I wasn’t asking.

His son was a different story. Firstly the boy was biologically impossible. He had crystal clear blue eyes, blond hair gelled back just like his father’s and at the tender age of eight stood to the man’s chest. Unless his mother was some Amazonian-beach-model-heart-breaker the boy wasn’t Jim’s son.

I’d seen plenty of adopted children come here with their parents. The rich seemed to take in ethnic children like they did small purse dogs, but Sebastian, as Jim introduced him, didn’t act like a kid at all. He didn’t fiddle with his pristine suit- almost a carbon copy of his father’s. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look me in the eyes. It was like he was afraid or ashamed. He just trotted behind Jim staring at the floor.

He was a puppy following its owner. A puppy from the pound, one that had been thrown into a big cold cage all by itself for far too long. I could hear the pathetic tired whimpers in my ears, whimpers that begged ‘pet me and call me a good boy’.

Hell I almost did pet the kid but the look I was getting from Jim told me if I didn’t take them to a table and stop making small talk I was going to regret it.

I took them to two tables before they settled on one in the far back of the restaurant- my section of course. I smiled politely as Jim slid into the booth and as Sebastian tried to follow and sit next to him.

“No.” Jim barked as he shoved the boy off the seat. My heart ached at the boy’s face, he looked seconds from tears. He didn’t so much as squawk though; he took the seat across from his father and sat perfectly still.

I brought them out bread sticks and tried to take their drink order. Jim didn’t look away from his phone or acknowledge me; Sebastian just stared at the bread longingly.

“You can eat it. They’re for you.” He looked down at his hands and didn’t move. I backed away from the table and made a note to give them some time.

I watched them from the corner strategically placed so waiters could look into the odd shaped booths. Sebastian was back to staring at the bread, his little hands were folded in his lap along with one of his fathers. It didn’t strike me as strange at first then I looked closely. His hand seemed to be moving and as each second ticked by Sebastian’s round baby face was turning pinker.

My eyes popped. What had I just seen? My thoughts raced to make it innocent. Perhaps he was just telling his son how proud he was. That was a fatherly thing to do. It didn’t fit though; his mouth hadn’t been moving and his hand was too close to the boy’s crotch.

I walked back over with my head spinning. I saw Jim look at me but he didn’t move his hand.

“Can I help you?” His voice was thick with an Irish accent and it lilted at the end as if I was disrupting him. I wanted to apologize.

“Could I get you something to drink sir?” He looked to the boy who I swear made a small whimper.

“Well order than ‘Bastian.”

The boy’s pale eyes went wide and for the first time he looked at me. He was beautiful, His face alone made me jealous. Women would be all over him when he got older. Strong chin, high cheek bones, fragile pink lips – the ideal man if I’d ever seen one.

“Well son, what would you like?” He blushed, it was cute.

“May I get a fizzy drink?”

It took me a second then I remembered that he was European. “A soda? Sure, we have all kinds – coke, root beer, grape, sprite, orange…” His eyes lit up at the orange. “Want some orange soda?” He nodded, I wrote it down. “For you sir?”

“Cranberry and Vodka. Ice.” The man was back to his phone so I just nodded and walked away until I hear Jim tell me to wait. “What do you say ‘Bastian?”

The boy looked at me with a face I’d only seen on desperate sluts hanging around the bars in lower Queens. He licked his baby pink lips and cocked his little head the side before purring, “Thank you sir.”

“You’re most welcome.” I needed to wash my hands. As I walked away I heard his father tell him he was a good boy. I brought them their drinks and fresh bread, the others had gone hard and cold. From my corner I watched Sebastian wrap his small lips around his kid’s cup straw and suck. He managed to do it more seductively than any of the girls I’d dated or wanted to date.

They still hadn’t ordered when I brought the boy his second drink. I was starting to get annoyed. “We all good here?” I asked hoping they’d get the hint.

“Oh yes!” Sebastian moaned. My eyes must have shown my confusion because he instantly tried to explain. “I’m a good boy sir.” He smiled proudly at me then at Jim.

“That’s not what the young man meant.” The boy gave a look of pain or maybe pleasure. I heard a soft buzzing; I pushed it from my mind. “He wants to take our order. Feels we are taking too long. Hopefully he understands that I tip extremely well especially if I feel the server minds his or her own business.”

“I’m sorry sir. I don’t mean to be intruding.”

“No, no you’re fine. Sebastian there does look ravished doesn’t he?” The boy’s eyes had glazed over and his mouth was hanging slightly open. The father didn’t seem alarmed. “I’ll have the full lobster tail over fettuccini in a wine sauce. Sebastian?” The boy looked up, he was breathing heavy. “Well, order if you’re hungry.”

“I-” The boy started in a voice no more than a moan. The buzzing increased but that could have been my imagination. “Uhhh!” Sebastian’s hands grabbed at his drink and he took a big sip while those pretty blue eyes of his stayed locked on my own. He was shaking ever so slightly and I felt bad for the kid. Maybe he was shy. He was most definitely shy. “Pasta!” He cried. “Uh spaghetti!” His knuckles were white and his face was completely flushed.

“Would you like meat balls with that son?” He looked at me alarmed and started shaking more. He nodded and I quickly wrote down their order. I didn’t need this kid having a panic attack on me. “I’ll have that right up.”

As I walked away I caught just the beginnings of their conversation. “You almost creamed your trousers there didn’t you? Did you manage to hold it in? Very good Sebastian, you are my good boy.” I didn’t come back to their table until their food was up. 

They ate slowly but I only came by to refill their drinks then wonder away quickly. Whatever was going on between them wasn’t something I wanted in on and I wasn’t sure I wanted to call the cops. After all I’d only seen the kid act strange and I had no evidence. It wasn’t my fault.

Jim paid his bill in cash. I didn’t except him to leave a tip. He gave off that vibe over the last portion of their meal when he ordered a cheese cake and fed it to his son. He just kept staring at me in my corner as if begging me to come over so he could yell at me. I was pleasantly surprised when I picked up the booklet from their table and found a crisp new hundred dollar bill tucked inside. Pleasantly surprised- it was more shocked out of my mind.

Folded in it was a little note scrolled on the back of a business card that read Jim Moriarty, and that was all. The note on the back was written in neat cursive that took me a second to make out. “You’re most welcome to join us at,” it gave an address to one of the fancy hotels near time square and a room number. “Don’t get any ideas. We are watching.”


End file.
